In the Land of One Thousand Years
by flute-genevive
Summary: Pre-Twilight. Emmett/Rosalie. Begins at Emmett's awakening as a vampire in the Cullen household and describes his ensuing love and relationship with Rosalie. As canon as I could possibly make it.
1. Chapter 1

In the Land of One Thousand Years Chapter One

Emmett fluttered open his new ruby red eyes, just in time to see the perfect blonde angel run from the room like she might be violently sick. His eyes searched other parts of the room, coming to rest on Edward, who was standing in the corner as still as a statue.

"Don't worry about Rosalie." Edward assured him, the voice echoing in Emmett's ears much too loudly for how quietly the words had been spoken. "I'm Edward Cullen. I must say, I'm impressed. You have a very…er…_colorful_ vocabulary."

Emmett's eyes grew wide and flicked over to the door where Rose had escaped. "Was I actually saying all that out loud?"

Edward shook his head.

"Then how – "

"I can hear your thoughts." He was blunt, and unapologetic.

"Oh." Emmett paused for a second, trying to soak that in. Edward wasn't exactly grinning at his reaction, but Emmett thought he detected a certain smugness. He tried to think back through the fiery pain, still much too fresh, and remember what he had thought of these past few days. It didn't seem too bad.

"Nothing too embarrassing." Edward confirmed. He stepped forward.

Emmett tried to sit up, head still ringing. There seemed to be too much empty air. "I'm Emmett McCarty."

"We're going to have to change that." Edward's eyes lit up as he extended his hand. The two met with outstanding force and jollity.

"So…what are we?" Emmett, gesturing between Edward and himself. He wasn't exactly comfortable with this whole "telepathic communication" thing. He would much rather the words are out in the open than in the confines of his mind.

Edward deliberated, looking closely. "You can be the son of Esme's older sister, who died. How's that?"

Emmett shrugged.

"Wait. That would make you my nephew – would it not?" Edward shook his head.

"Who are you?"

"Now? I'm Esme's younger brother."

Emmett grinned. "I could get used to calling you uncle."

"We can be cousins. You will be the son of one of Esme's cousins. We can think of a name later." Edward smiled.

Suddenly, a shattering crash came from the next room over. Emmett stood up, and caught a glimpse of himself in the hanging mirror. He stopped, lifting a hand to his face and touching the corner of his eye.

Edward grew quiet. "The red will go away."

Emmett gulped. "How long?" His voice croaked.

"A year or so."

Emmett just nodded. "That won't seem long, will it?"

"It will go by quickly."

Whatever it was that Rosalie had shattered in her room was now being picked up, little bits clinking together.

Emmett looked at Edward, thoughts giving away the mental image he had a feeling would always be one of his favorites. Rosalie sitting next to him, her blonde waves gracing his heaving chest and her hand holding his.

"Go." Edward commanded. "She only thinks she wants to be alone."

--

Rosalie was cowering on her bed, an elaborate pillow sham on her lap. The broken pieces of a vase lay on the edge of her blankets, the flowers and water strewn all over the floor. She had been terribly, horribly angry at herself and thrown the first thing that looked at her funny against the wall. There was a dramatic crack in the wood paneling.

She knew that this man was hers. She had made the choice to save him. Now she had to deal with it.

But why? Why had she run at the bear the way she did, with arms raised high and screaming at the top of her lungs? She hadn't thought about if she liked the man she was saving or even if she wanted another man around the house. She had seen Vera's little boy in the dimples and dark, wild hair of the Scottish man, and acted impulsively. She cursed herself for being so childish.

He hadn't seemed so big when the bear was tossing him casually or when he lay helpless in her arms. It was only when she had seen him in the bed, legs hanging way over the bottom and arm muscles dark against the white sheets that she remembered to be afraid of men this big.

As if he had read her mind, he appeared in her doorway, blocking the light from the hall except for a ring around his head. He had to duck as to not hit the doorframe. She looked up at his shadow, her whole body tensing with fear of what was coming – both mentally and physically. He sat down, the whole bed tilting in his direction, so much like her world.

He fingered a piece of glass, noting how it would no longer slice his finger. "Was this expensive?"

He seemed to know just the thing to say. It was very much on her level of coy conversation.

She shook her head. "Not very."

"That's good." He wasn't the coy kind of person, and the silence quickly became more awkward than alluring.

Rosalie shifted on the bed, crossing and uncrossing her legs. "Well – " she began.

Emmett jumped in, the silence having been broken. "I just wanted to say thank you."

The overwhelming quiet that over took the room then was astounding. Finally, Rosalie's voice, "What?"

"Thank you."

She was still bewildered. "For what?"

"Saving me." He looked at her like it was obvious. "You know, from that bear?"

She nodded, eyes glistening with wonder that someone could be grateful for this existence. She had expected him to be mad.

Neither of them knew it yet, though they both would eventually, but this simple, good-mannered act was the best thing Emmett could have done for her.

--

Their backyard was a thing of beauty. Emmett had never seen anything like it. The oak of the bat felt good in his hands, and he welcomed the brush with humanity this activity offered.

Edward was pitching, a little bit of brotherly bonding. He had sworn that he would not be taking it easy on Emmett. Rosalie stood in the shadows, far away from home plate and the pitcher's mound. Emmett had no doubt that he could hit it that far, with this new excessive strength, but visually, the distance was daunting.

The ball flew out of Edward's hand, a rolling mass of red and white traveling at well over major league speeds. The bat swung forward, effortlessly. Upon making contact with the ball, the sound was so loud that Emmett had to resist the urge to drop and cover his ears. At least that explained why they had waited until the thunderstorm raged outside.

Emmett watched the ball instead of running. It arched and soared far beyond Rosalie's head and she sprinted off after it, arm outstretched as far as it would go. Still, the small white orb dropped a long ways away from her reach. Emmett grinned and took off for first base, blurring into the air. Rosalie stepped on second, petulantly pouting and crossing her arms. Emmett halted on first, hands up in a half-hearted excuse. Edward flashed him a smile, full of congratulations and challenge. As Carlisle stepped up to the plate, waving the same oak bat competitively behind his back with a smirk on his face, Emmett crouched and winked at Rosalie. She was playing farther back than before, but she simply rolled her eyes at his advances.

He had been here a little more than two weeks now, and she had yet to say more than a few words in his directions, yet alone explain her actions. Emmett didn't think it was a great start, but Edward consoled him, stating that Rose had quite a lot to sort out. Emmett didn't understand, exactly, but what was he going to do except wait for her to come around? It's not like he had anything better to do.

"Run!" Carlisle commanded a few steps from rounding first. Emmett took off like a shot, easily making it to third before Rosalie climbed out of the trees behind them.

Her hair was a mess of leaves and twigs, a tear appearing under her arm as she threw to Edward. She immediately fixed her ruffled appearance, brushing herself off. Emmett gaped; losing focus once again, and right then and there, fell in love with her. The grimace on her face as she tried to make herself beautiful again, failing to realize that she already was. Edward flitted his eyes to make contact with Emmett's and smiled a crooked, knowing smile. _Finally_, thought Edward, _maybe they could all be happy_.

Emmett continued his slow process of falling more and more in love with Rosalie in the following days. Each new encounter was a wonder to him, opening his newborn eyes to the beauty of this Rosalie, who had no idea the affect she was having on him. It wasn't a ravishing, maddening kind of fall. It was more of just finding the little things about her that made him smile.

She would crinkle her nose in distaste when reading something that wasn't to her personal favor. She liked to bite her nails, but only when she thought nobody was looking. She spent countless hours in front of the mirror, not only in the relentless beauty routines, but also just looking at herself. Emmett discovered that it was vanity, but not in the way that the rest of the family thought it was. She always found new things about herself instead of just admiring the things which were there. One day, she stood at the hallway mirror and wrinkled her forehead, again and again, trying to make the folds stay in her perfect granite skin. Emmett found her beautifully tragic.

--

Rosalie was disgusted with herself. She had chance after chance to just sit and talk with Emmett, this man who had so suddenly shifted her train of thought. It was quickly becoming an obsession, not just with thoughts of him and her, but with thoughts of just him and what he did. She wondered how this man was going to affect her life.

She was still partially scared of him. She told herself it was his size. The thought of someone, a man especially, that had this much of a physical upper hand on her, made her relive moments of painful struggle underneath Royce King, her back scraping on the cobblestones beneath her.

Really, it wasn't his size. There was so much about her that she kept bottled up behind these walls she was so good at creating. Emmett, as loving as he was, had this way of stating the truest things. She didn't want truth to be in the open. Her truth was only meant for her, and everyone else got a distorted version. Whatever she felt like telling them. She knew a lasting relationship couldn't be built on this, but Emmett would make her face what she ran from. And she had done so much running.

Walking upstairs to her room, she passed by Emmett's room and saw him lounging in a chair, casually reading a newspaper. She paused for just a moment and then continued on, guilt-ridden for missing another opportunity but relishing in the safety of her mind. Edward would never tell.

The rustling of thin paper made her walk faster. But she couldn't move fast enough. He was behind her on the stairs, following her into the room with entirely too much pink and settling himself on the window seat.

"What?" Her voice broke, ruining the charade of confidence.

"Why haven't we talked?" He got right to the point.

Rosalie fiddled with her fingers, and the ring that had been in the pocket of her apron, the one she still carried with her for god knows why, found its way on to her finger.

"We need to." He reminded her, not seeing the flash of gold.

She nodded.

"Well," He laughed suddenly, the sound filling the room and her chest. "At least we can agree on that."

Rosalie didn't smile. Emmett, not knowing what else to do, reached for her hair.

"You're beautiful, you know?"

She froze and batted him away. He would have had to be an idiot to not see the wedding band while it was waved in front of his face. He caught her hand.

"What's this?"

She didn't miss the devastation in his eyes.

"You're engaged?" He was hurt, and she hated the sound of his voice, so thundering and pitiful.

She cleared her throat. "No." She pulled her hand back and slipped the ring off. It had been a comfort, but Esme would be disappointed if Emmett told her. "Not anymore." Her hand felt empty. She clenched and unclenched her fingers, missing the weight. Why, she didn't know. It made her sick, the way she still wished for that life. That messed up, disgusting life.

"Oh." He looked at her, commanding her gaze, and she wished she could look away from the eyes that were still a dark and murderous crimson. She had done that to him. Then he blinked. "I don't understand."

"It was," She hurried to come up with another twisted version of the truth, "A long time ago. When I was still…human." The word came out wistfully, a long lost hope.

"You loved him?" Emmett's voice was gentle.

"I don't want to talk about this." She tore from the room, leaving only a sweet breeze and fluttering curtains behind her.

--

In the months since his addition to the Cullen family, Emmett had found his niche within the tortured and often philosophical walls of the Cullen home. He provided much needed comic relief, if only in a subtle way.

The two boys sat on the front porch, casually tossing a baseball higher than the roof before catching it with a satisfying slam back into their hands. Carlisle and Esme were somewhere far off, enjoying a sunset stroll through trees together. Rosalie had gone shopping for the last time before they moved, yet again.

Emmett threw the ball in Edward's direction. "What's up with Rose?"

"Today?"

"Every day." They were carefully avoiding each other's eyes, keeping the topic vague. Emmett wasn't sure how this was going to work – this conversation – but he had to know. Not knowing what made this girl the way she was ripped him apart inside.

"She's been through a lot." Edward gave his standard answer.

Emmett sighed. "You know something?" He caught the ball and turned to face Edward. "You say that every time and still I'm no closer to figuring out what you mean."

Edward laughed once, a scoff. "I shouldn't tell you."

"It's that bad?"

"It really is." Edward picked up the baseball and continued the rhythmic pattern, finding it comforting.

"Can you explain anything?"

"Not much." Edward was remaining irritatingly unresponsive.

"Anything?" Emmett repeated. "Anything at all?"

Edward thought pensively for a few long moments. "She was…brought up to be beautiful." He gulped. He didn't like the feeling of this, spilling secrets that weren't his. "She was engaged to a very wealthy man, who promised to give her anything she wanted." Edward turned to look at Emmett. "That wouldn't have been hard. All Rosalie wanted was children." He felt a sick twisting in his stomach, was he telling too much? He had never broken this particular boundary before, how far was going too far?

"She can't have children now." Emmett stated, resting his head in his hand.

"When that plan…well…didn't turn out the way she thought it would, Carlisle found her and changed her."

"Didn't work out like she thought it would?" Emmett repeated Edward's words back to him. "What do you mean?"

Edward sighed. That would most definitely be going too far. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask Rosalie to get that information."

"Great." Emmett cursed under his breath.

Edward, taking initiative one more time, added, "Don't give up trying. She'll be worth it in the end."

Emmett lifted his head and smiled. "I thought so." He stood, gave Edward a loving slap on the shoulder and went inside, letting the screen slam shut behind him. Edward just tossed the ball some more.

--


	2. Chapter 2

In the Land of One Thousand Years Chapter Two

In the Land of One Thousand Years Chapter Two

**A/N: I want to thank everyone who read the first chapter, and the few of you who stopped by on LJ to say you liked it. Encouragement from you guys made it possible for me to get up early this morning and retype chapter 2, which was missing from my saved files.**

**I wasn't going to make a big deal out of this, but please guys. More than 60 people have read this and 4 of you have alerted it, and NO ONE could leave a simple "I liked it / I hated it"? I'm not asking for a lot here. I don't need lengthy critiques (unless you want to give them?), just a note to let me know you didn't just click on it by accident.**

**Thanks! And enjoy chapter 2!**

The endless amounts of clothes just kept coming. Rosalie stood in front of the mirror, while ladies with too much perfume and lipstick that didn't match their skin tone shoved more and more yards of silk in her direction.

"Try this on next." The lady with the measuring tape draped across her shoulders was already unbuttoning the dress. She held up her arms, and two more women settled the dress over her head. She held her shoulders back and picked up her hair as she was buttoned into another expensive creation. She let down her hair when they were finished and smiled at herself in the mirror.

The pale pink skirt fell to the floor, as she had no need for practicality. Rosalie picked up the skirt and listened to the soft rustle as it fell back down. The neckline was cut low, lined with a lace that tickled when it moved. With the corset she wore, (still more comfortable than any of those new _garters_) the neckline showed quite a bit of her chest. She put a hand there, and debated with herself for a moment. Was it too much?

She glanced down at her other bags, leaning carelessly on the floor beside the mirror. They were full of clothes for Emmett, as he was not yet able to leave the house, his blood-lust still too young and uncontrollable. They would be moving tomorrow, and Emmett had no clothes left to pack. He had torn most of them to shreds.

Rosalie turned back to the mirror, glancing over the dress again.

"It looks lovely on you, dear." The older saleswoman smiled maternally at her. Rosalie nodded.

_Emmett would like it._ The thought invaded her head without her knowledge. She stepped back from the look of shock on her face in the mirror and stumbled clumsily off the platform. The women rushed to help her up.

She smirked at the accident, cursed herself for shopping to impress a man – of all things – and apologized daintily for the disturbance.

Rosalie bought the dress, and several others. She managed to convince herself that it was only because _she_ liked them. No one else's opinion mattered. She would look great in whatever she wore, she reminded herself. _Emmett has nothing to do with this._

The man in question met her at the front door of the house, rushing to carry her bags upstairs, still a perfect gentleman. Rosalie wondered if she brought it out in him. Secretly, she hoped she did.

"Thank you, Emmett." Her voice was strained, but somehow more gentle than Emmett had ever heard it before. He looked up at her before following her up the staircase.

"Did you buy the whole store, Rosalie?" He joked.

"Almost." She said seriously. And then she laughed, finally understanding.

The sensation of laughing, of that throaty sound bubbling up from her stomach and spilling out of her mouth, made her stop. She hadn't laughed, really laughed, since she had been alive. A hand flew to her mouth as if she could hold it in. Emmett paused, waiting in the hall for her to continue, but if he noticed the rarity of the occurance, he didn't say anything.

Edward looked up from the piano bench where he sat, silent, and blinked at her, reading the confusion in her thoughts and written plainly on her face.

Composing herself back into the girl she knew, Rosalie continued down the hallway, pushing open her door and making her way sullenly over to the window where she could look out on the forest below, and feel as if she was on top of something, bigger than something, in control of something.

--

Emmett loved being in her room. It was close and personal, and totally saturated with her scent and only hers. Every atom held her essence, something that smelled of roses and violets, and had a slight tang – like the sun. It didn't match her behavior, and what most people would call her personality. It was what first made him realize that there was something behind the vanity and petulance.

He set the bags down and lingered. She had gone straight to the window and was looking out over the warm trees.

"Can I help you pack?" They would be moving the first thing the next morning. Most of the home was already in boxes. Rosalie whirled, fingers still locked in her curls where she had been absent-mindedly twisting them.

She blinked, as if seeing him for the first time and needing an introduction. Then, she recovered. "Yes, please." He pulled a heavy trunk from the closet. "Thank you."

His smile lit up the room. "You're welcome. Where should I start?"

This confused her again. He could see her contemplating what she was comfortable letting him touch. "How about my books, over there," she gestured to the bookcase in the farthest corner from her bed. "In that bookcase?"

"As you wish." The words flowed casually from his mouth, and he found that he always wanted to do just that, whatever she wished. Nothing could ever bring him more happiness. He thought he heard a snort from Edward downstairs.

Rosalie bustled around, gathering another trunk and beginning to gently fold her many dresses, slipping loving satchels of roses and violets between the layers. That would explain the smell then, a smell she chose for herself.

"Why violets?" Emmett asked from the corner, causing her to lift her eyes and meet his curious ones. "I mean, I understand the roses…but violets?"

She swallowed, allowing the venom to burn her throat. "My fiancé said my eyes were like violets. He used to send me bouquets of them every night." She glanced in the mirror, seeming to forget for a moment that her eyes were no longer the color they had once been. All she saw was dark butterscotch. "Not that you could tell, anymore." The words were tragic, and Emmett wondered what made them that way.

"I bet they were pretty, but I think golden suits you better." He didn't want her to pine for another life, he wanted her to be happy here with him. Most importantly, with him.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you to say." The words came easily, as she was no stranger to compliments. They sounded all wrong in this small, poorly lit room with just her and Emmett. She laughed again, and he let the sound warm him, wash over his senses. It tingled his ears, her laugh. Emmett was glad that they had managed to avoid the dark mood that was hovering obviously on the horizon. "I'm sorry. I mean – that sounded wrong."

"It was fine." He continued to stack books, thick ones with nicely bound covers, understanding on a small level how hard all of this was for her. He wished that he could understand more. He knew he'd never find out if he didn't ask. She wasn't the type to volunteer information. "Rose?"

She was content, and her answer came out in a, "Hmmm?"

"Tell me about yourself." He wasn't asking a lot, really. At least, he didn't think so. But the look on her face said something different entirely.

"Why?" His bluntness had taken her by storm.

"I want to know." It was another honest answer and he knew that she would like a vague question better, one she could dodge and run from. He didn't let her run. "I'll get you started. Where are you from?"

She stared for a few moments, lengths of human heartbeats, and then smiled. "Rochester, New York. I was born there in 1915." She paused, to glance at him. He had returned to stacking books – there were so many of them.

"I'm listening." He assured her.

"I died in 1933, when I was 18." He heard her slip another satchel into a trunk. "Carlisle changed me in hopes that Edward and I…well…"She giggled. Emmett's eyes widened – this was news to him. He felt a pang of jealousy towards Edward. It registered on his face and Rosalie was quick to add, "We didn't, of course." She looked at him, and then became nervous as she realized that Emmett's jealousy of Edward bothered her. She didn't want him to be jealous.

Emmett smiled at her, urging her to continue, relief evident on his features. "Of course."

"And then, a year later, we moved here."

"I knew that." He closed the trunk, having finished with the books. She didn't continue with her story.

"Thank you." She said again, with a hint of darkness creeping back in. He was astounded at how quickly her moods changed.

He wondered if it was something he did.

--

They had settled into the darkened woods of Hoquiam and Emmett was back in his element, surrounded by thick trees and big game, bears especially. It provided Rosalie the perfect opportunity to fall in love with him – the same way he had fallen in love with her, though she wouldn't know that for a long time.

She had a window seat in her room, a stipulation for moving, and she would sit there for hours, just watching Emmett play baseball with Edward or fell trees with Carlisle. He was so…open. She wanted to be like that, but doubted that she ever would. He laughed, head tipped back, and the leaves above him would shake with the noise. She wanted to make him laugh like that.

It was the smallest things that drew her in. In some ways, she seemed very pathetic – at least to herself. She wanted to be a part of everything, but was too shy to take the action that would put her there.

He was curious, always smelling things, picking things up. Every once in awhile, his strength would get the best of him and the chair he kicked would splinter to pieces beneath his feet.

She was jealous of the way he fit into the family, always the center of attention, always commanding the stage. They loved him, and she wanted to be loved too. But she was afraid. Being with him would drag her into the spotlight as well, and there were certain things she wanted to keep hidden.

Rosalie didn't want to be away from him, but too often, the things he did were too much for her.

One particularly hot day, the whole family had lounged in the wooden seats on the porch, carefully hidden from the sun should anyone happen to pass by, but enjoying the heat. They were exchanging stories, and Emmett being the newest, was telling the majority of them. Many of them centered around his family of eight rowdy children. He turned to her, and so simply, asked if she had any siblings. It had already been made known that most of them, (Edward, Esme, Carlisle) had been the only child in their families. It seemed like an easy enough question, and she hated herself for letting the memories stray to the picture of her family – next to the Kings – printed in the paper just five days after her death. Her little brothers had seemed so empty, even her sister had stopped crying for the picture.

The ever elegant Rosalie politely excused herself, leaving the close table and escaping to her bedroom. She heard Edward explain that she did, indeed, have two brothers and a baby sister. Emmett made a comment and continued with his childhood musings.

She had never felt more left out, and yet, she couldn't bring herself to go back. She hoped Edward would keep that little tidbit to himself.

She heard Emmett outside her door later that evening.

"Are you alright, Rose?" He whispered through the door.

"I'm fine." Her voice was muffled by the pillow she held to her face.

"I don't want you to be alone."

She lifted her head, blonde curls falling on her shoulders. "I like to be alone." It wasn't true, but if he believed her, it was his fault. She wasn't keen on truth.

He opened the door. "I don't believe that."

The surprise formed a perfect little 'O' on her lips. He simply winked, breaking out that thousand – watt smile, and closed the door again.

--


	3. Chapter 3

In the Land of One Thousand Years Chapter Three

In the Land of One Thousand Years Chapter Three

**A/N: Again, thanks to everyone who read this, and especially ****deceivingflames**** who wrote one of the nicest reviews I've ever read. A thousand thanks, as it reaches 10:30 at night where I am and I'm up - retyping chapter 3 because it was somehow deleted from my computers (again!).**

**However, even when I asked nicely, I got 3 more favorites, 8 more alerts and 5 reviews…After 200 more views. That's pathetic, you guys. You can do better than that.**

**I'm leaving to go out of town on Thursday. I will not have access to a computer until Tuesday. You guys are in control. If I get…hmm…15 more reviews, for a total of 20, then I'll post chapter 4 before I leave. That's not too much to ask, is it? I sure hope not.**

**Anyway, thanks to everyone who did read and review. It means so much. Really. I smile every time I open my email and see that someone else left a review or added my story to the list of their favorites.**

**And now… Chapter three!**

Emmett wasn't going to stand for it, he decided. She, at least, deserved a better existence than depression and long nights locked in her room, pretending to cry into a pillow.

"It isn't going to be easy." Edward warned him, once again. "Even if you do cheer her up, it never lasts for long."

Emmett just nodded. He knew this already, and it hadn't deterred him yet. He turned his head, and caught a glimpse of her watching him from her bedroom window. It was cute, and reminded him of hi sisters when he would invite friends over to play ball in the backyard. It confirmed what Edward had first told him, in not so many words, that day before they left Tennessee. Rosalie – more than anything else – wanted to be human. Every part of her being craved humanity. It hurt Emmett to know that he could never truly give it to her, no matter what he did.

"But I commend you for trying." Edward laughed, pulling Emmett away from his thoughts of a lonely Rosalie, pining for him at her window seat.

"Thanks." Emmett still wasn't focused. "Any hints?"

Edward's face fell. "I told you. You – "

"I know. I have to figure her out by myself." Emmett dropped the ball by Edward's feet. "I'll see you later."

"Good luck!"

Emmett shot another glance up at Rosalie's window, and she turned guiltily away. He hurried up the stairs, two at a time. With a quiet knock on the wood of her doorframe, he waited for the polite response.

"Yes?"

He opened the door, revealing a picturesque Rosalie, seated at her window seat in a demure white gown and diligently reading an impressive leather-bound book. "Oh." He made his face fall, acting, though he was truly going to be disappointed if she refused. He hoped that she didn't see through the small smile on his face.

She looked up, with wide eyes that were far too dark for comfort. His matched hers, finally fading to a dark brown instead of crimson.

"I was hoping that maybe you'd like to go hunting with me." He shuffled his feet, like he was nervous. He didn't have to pretend. "But you wouldn't want to get that dress dirty."

She blinked at him. It was an unspoken rule that they avoided each other as much as possible, him out of nerves and her from fear of being discovered as the coward she was.

"Sorry to disturb your reading." He backed away slowly, never turning around, keeping his eyes on hers, stalling for time.

She put the book down abruptly. "Emmett?" Her voice was too loud, and a tad too shrill. She was just as nervous as he was, probably more so. He rushed back inside the room.

"Yes?"

"I would like to accompany you, if it is all right?" She was already gathering her hair up into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few curly tendrils managing to slip out and dangle near her shoulder blades.

"Of course." He stood there, awkwardly, taking deep breaths, as she finished with her hair and found a pair of sturdy brown boots. When she stood next to him, only five or so inches shorter than he was, she looked elegant and impossibly graceful. Emmett had never felt so intimidated by anyone. "Ready?"

She nodded and let him hold the door for her as they left. Emmett closed it softly and the breeze that chased him smelled of rose petals.

They headed into the woods without speaking, Emmett's breathing providing a simple rhythm and her shoes gently crunching twigs beneath the heels. Soon, the total silence proved itself too much for Emmett.

"What were you reading?" He was almost whispering, but it still seemed too loud.

She proceeded to answer even louder, as if tempting the conversation. "Paradise Lost."

Emmett had never read it, had never even heard of it, but the title was enough to worry him. "Do you really believe that?"

"Do I really believe what?"

"That your paradise is lost." He was obviously worried what her answer might be, and the genuine concern on his face shocked her into telling the truth.

"Yes."

A rabbit skipped out of their way, they both ignored it. Emmett moved in front of her, stopping their progress through the trees, and looked at her curiously, but sadness was there also. "Why?"

--

Rosalie looked back at him like it was obvious. The answer tumbled out of her mouth, but if she had known how he would take it, she would have taken the time to twist her words. "I had everything I'd ever wanted, and it wasn't enough." She paused, but he hadn't reacted, so she continued. "So they took it all away."

Emmett's brow furrowed. "Who?"

Rosalie laughed, but it wasn't funny. It was a harsh, sarcastic laugh. More like a scoff. "Fate, God…whoever is in charge of things like that."

Emmett considered this for a moment, and then opened his mouth again. "What did they take away that was so important?"

She closed her eyes, the memory too much to bear, and when she opened them again, they were deep and black. "Everything. They took everything. My life, my family, my love." She bit down on her lip, and shook her head.

Emmett looked on, at first incredulous and then like he might be sick. He was stunned speechless by the emotional outburst that was so rare for her.

She was equally shocked. Mentally, she chided herself for being so open.

"Rose," Emmett began, but she held up a hand.

"Never mind." She retreated back into the quiet.

And then, they both smelled it. The big game, not far away. Emmett grabbed her hand, and pulled her through the forest, breaking into a run. Rosalie could feel the venom pooling in the back of her throat, hot and sticky, but she couldn't think. Her skin was sparkling where their hands were joined. She was so thirsty, but she couldn't think of anything but the feel of Emmett's skin against hers.

Her dress billowed out, catching on trees as she ran behind Emmett.

The bear was in the clearing, swiping at something high in a tree. Emmett dropped her hand, slinking into a crouch, his muscles bulging and twinkling in the sun. She stopped and watched him, transfixed.

He moved swiftly, throwing the bear against a tree, effectively snapping its spine. He wasted no time, biting quickly into the jugular and draining the blood while it was still warm.

Rosalie could smell the fresh blood now, and her senses were going wild, but she still stood, frozen in place, and admired the way Emmett's torn shirt hung over his stomach, the trail of thin hair that led seductively beyond the waistband of his pants. He smiled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He pointed off to the north, and she turned, smelling the next kill. A moose, only a few miles away. He gave her a shove, breaking his spell on her, and she took off running.

She came up on the animal from behind, and although the fight was not a gruesome one, there was bloodshed. There must have been, because as she pulled away, sated, she found a trail of dark blood stains across the waist of the dress and up her chest. The blood glistened, not dry, and soaked through the fabric quickly.

Rosalie was instantly transported, through perfect memories, to another night when blood had stained her dress in a similar pattern. She stood, horrified and shaking, and ran desperately for home. She screamed wildly, and didn't hear Emmett when he called after her.

She tore the dress off before she was even in her room, locking the door and flinging the garment to the floor. She drew a bath and scrubbed herself clean, though she was hardly dirty at all. She dressed in only undergarments and curled under her blankets, whimpering to herself and trying, unsuccessfully, to be warm again.

--

Emmett wanted to go to Rosalie, but he was too late. When he plowed through the door of the house, he could already hear the bath water running. He sunk dejectedly into a chair.

"What happened?" Esme's voice was light, comforting. She didn't want Emmett to be sad.

Emmett shook his head. "I don't have the slightest idea." He turned away from the rest of the family and listened as Rosalie kicked the water in the tub around. He heard the ribbons tying as she dressed, and the rustle of the blankets when she climbed into bed.

He stood up when he heard her begin to cry, or rather, begin to try to make herself cry. He was outside her door in seconds, banging deliberately. He was not going to do this again. He couldn't listen to her like this for very much longer, it would break his heart.

She didn't answer.

"Rosalie?" He called through the thick wood.

"Go away, Emmett." Her voice was thick and heavy, but was not marred by tears as it should have been. Emmett knew that only made things worse.

"Are you okay?" He opened the door, twisting until the lock popped open. It was a silly question, of course, and he knew just how silly when he looked inside the room and found her covered completely by blankets, curled around a pillow. "I guess not." He whispered, because this conversation was not meant for anyone else in the house but them.

He sat on the edge of the bed and reached out a hand to pull back a blanket.

"Don't touch me!" She snapped and Emmett was confused by the obvious fear in her voice.

"Okay." He pulled his hand back to his lap. "I won't." He waited, thinking that maybe being quiet would prompt her to come out, but she didn't move. "Rosalie, sit up."

She shook her head.

"Please?"

She sighed, either annoyed or resigned, and pulled back the covers. "What do you want Emmett?"

She looked as horrible as possible. Her hair was wet and tangled, and her chemise was buttoned haphazardly, leaving gaps. Her lower lip trembled, stubbornly refusing to admit that there would be no tears.

"I want you to be happy." He was terribly honest, knowing that this was what she responded to. A year of trying to get her attention had taught him things.

"Why does it matter?"

It was his turn to be startled. "Because I care about you, Rose."

Emmett reached out and took her hand in his. Her long white fingers looked so delicate next to his large hands. She didn't pull away. "There's just something about you." He rubbed circles in her skin. "Something that I want to hold and protect and make mine." He didn't look in her eyes.

Rosalie didn't say anything. She stared blankly at the top of his head as he looked at their hands. She wasn't sure what this meant, and if it was okay for her to feel the same way. "Emmett?" Her voice was so soft, he though he might be hearing things.

He looked up, terrified of what she was going to say.

"I…um…" She stumbled over words, glancing around the room and looking anywhere but at him. "I mean – you…er…I guess…" She stopped, and finally turned focused on his face, imploring him to understand what she was trying to say.

"It's okay. You don't have to say it." He grinned, and put one hand on her back, pulling her gently and slowly into his chest. "Is this all right?"

She exhaled, a soft breeze hitting his shirt, and nodded weakly.

He ducked his head down to whisper in her ear. "Will you tell me what was wrong?"

Rosalie froze. "I – I can't."

"Please?" His voice was quiet, calm, he wanted more than ever to dispel her darkness but he didn't know how. "I want to help."

"It can't be helped." Her announcement was sharp, final.

"You can tell me anything, Rose." Emmett wasn't going to let this be over. His curiosity was finally getting the better of him and he knew that this was what Edward had been talking about all those times.

She took a deep shaking breath.

"You don't always have to be alone, you know."

Rosalie caved. Her body shook violently with sobs that it could not produce. "The blood on the dress…" Emmett rubbed her back soothingly, urging her to continue. "It reminded me of the night I died."

His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. This was information he wasn't expecting. "How did you die, Rose?"

She was gasping too hard to answer.

"Were you sick?" She shook her head weakly; dispelling the image Emmett had conjured of a frail Rosalie, dying in a hospital bed. "Was it an accident?" At least then, he would have nothing to blame for the trauma it caused her. But she shook her head again. He cringed at the next possibility. "Did somebody hurt you?"

Emmett dreaded the answer, but he knew before she could say anything by the way she pulled out of his arms and turned away.

"Who was it, Rosalie?" He snarled, a growl ripping from his throat. "Who was it?"

"Royce King." Her voice sounded small, and terrified. It didn't sound like the Rosalie he knew, though he was beginning to figure out how many layers of Rosalie there were.

Emmett recognized the name from the little bits of information that Edward had given him over the years. "Your fiancé?" He touched her back, and she flinched away. "What did he do to you?"

It was the question that both of them dreaded more than any other. Rosalie looked at him over her shoulder. He was livid, lips curled back over his teeth and fists clenched at his sides. He saw the fear in her eyes, directed both at him and the memory, and he relaxed. "What happened to you, Rosalie, to make you this scared?"

"I was…walking home one night and I walked past them. They were…drunk." She shivered. "They…well…" She couldn't finish when she looked up and saw the devastation on Emmett's face.

"Oh, Rose."

He rushed over to the bed where she was heaped among the blankets and sheets, picked her up into his arms and cradled her to his chest.

--

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung there while he held her, glad that someone else was finally able to bear the weight with her, protect her from herself. He whispered assurances of safety in her ear. She was no longer afraid of his size, because it was her greatest ally. She felt unbelievably safe tucked against his massive chest and arms.

"Emmett?"

He pulled back to look at her, biting her lip nervously. "What?" He had to clear his throat and the word came out low and rough.

"Thank you."

He wrapped his hands back around her waist and pulled her to him, meeting her lips gently with his. It was sweet, though it only lasted a second. He smelled like smoke and rain.

"I love you, Rosalie Hale."

--


	4. Chapter 4

In the Land of One Thousand Years

Emmett was seething, but he wasn't going to let Rosalie see that. He tried to be gentle, now more than ever, when she needed it most. He considered the fact that his size might scare her, and for the first time, wished his arms weren't quite so thick.

Her soft breath lingered in the air above his chest. She was quieting, the shaking had stopped and her back was rising evenly under his grasp.

She had thanked him. Thanked him for being there when she needed him, though she hadn't said do in quite as many words.

He didn't need to be thanked. If in any way possible, the revelation of her past had only made him want her more. She was breakable now, like a frail china doll, and the urge to protect swelled in his chest. He had imagined the dark side of Rosalie to be something smaller – not inconsequential, by any means, because it was Rosalie we were talking about – but not this heartbreakingly devastating. It made her very real, and more touchable. He felt like the missing puzzle piece had been found, and slid into place aside the rest. Suddenly, the whole picture made sense.

"You are safe here, because I love you." He told her again, repeating the words and making them more sincere than the last time he had said them, just a few minutes ago.

She nodded, her golden locks bouncing on his skin. He wrapped a hand in them. They felt soft, like silk, but smelled of the rosewater she kept above her sink in an elaborate glass bottle. He pressed his face into the strands.

"Rosalie." His voice was reverent, and now he understood about having a goddess on earth.

Her fingers twitched around his neck, and she pulled herself closer to him. It felt so good to be held.

"Emmett?" She whispered, her voice in his ear because he was bent down to her level. She always seemed to be asking him things, uncertain. "What are you thinking?"

She reminded him of Edward, always wanting to know, except it charmed him that she had to ask. "I was thinking of you, actually."

He felt her smile, and he loved that she could still smile after all that had been done to her.

"What about me?"

"Everything." Emmett was always honest, and not embarrassed by the way he felt, so he certainly wasn't going to hide it from her when she had told him she felt the same way. "The way you smell, your hair, how good it feels to hold you."

"I was thinking about how good it felt to be held." She was grinning, her teeth grazing against his skin. It made him shiver. He pulled her back, and this kiss was not gentle. It was ravishing, and deep. He pressed his arms into her back and she arched against him, opening her mouth to his.

He let his hands leave her hair, and caress her shoulders and hips. He kissed her eyelids, temples, cheeks and throat, working his way around her and learning every feature by touch (he already knew them by heart).

She fidgeted, and Emmett pulled away, afraid of going too fast. He was going to have to learn to control himself – something he had not been good at, even as a human.

"Are you okay?" There was an edge to his voice, and he was truly concerned for her. He needed to know where her limits were.

"I'm fine." She insisted, pushing hair back from her face and smiling up at him.

He looked at her, focusing on her eyes. "I need to know how much is too much, so I can help."

She frowned. "I'm fine."

It was his turn to frown. "You don't have to pretend, Rose. It's okay."

"I'm not pretending!" She stood.

Emmett sat on the bed and looked up at her. "You were not fine a few hours ago."

"It was a bad memory. I'm sorry!"

"For God's sake, Rose, don't apologize!" He wondered what was wrong with her, to make it that she would be this stubborn to remain composed about this.

"What do you want me to do?" She sounded upset, and was inwardly fighting to regain control of her emotions. He had never seen her flustered before.

"I want you to tell me how you feel!" He remained standing, knowing how much more intimidating it would be if he stood.

"I feel fine!"

Emmett tried to be gentle, he didn't want to fight with her, arguing would get them nowhere. "You seemed uncomfortable when we were kissing, that's all."

"I would have gotten over it." She spoke to quickly, not thinking. It was too easy to be herself with him. The ease scared her sometimes.

He sighed. "You shouldn't have to _get over_ anything, Rose."

"I didn't mean it like that." She tried to take her words back.

"How did you mean it, then?"

--

"I meant," She paused to think up a lie. Really, she had meant it like it sounded.

"Don't make something up." Emmett saw right through her.

Rosalie was surprised at how often he did that – saw right through her pretenses. She was struggling to keep up the calm persona that had protected her these long years, and he was quickly tearing it down.

"I meant that it isn't your problem." That didn't sound great either, but it was something.

"It isn't my problem?" Emmett added a question mark at the end.

"No." She was determined to stay set in her ways.

He glared for a moment, and she glared right back.

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Of course it's my problem Rosalie." He reached out to take her hand. "It involves you."

She crossed her arms, pulling her hand away.

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable when we're kissing. If you are, you need to tell me to stop."

"That's unnecessary." She knew that it would be a long time before she felt okay with heavily kissing anyone, if ever.

"I don't care." Emmett patted the bed next to him and she hesitantly sat. He took her hand again. "I want you to tell me." He tilted her head up with one finger. "Promise?"

"I promise."

He grinned. "Let's try that again." He bent, one hand behind her neck and pulling her forward, to meet her lips. He buried his hands in her hair, and traced her lips with his tongue. She didn't respond right away, and he tried again.

Rosalie wrenched her head away. "Stop." She panted, eyes wide. He dropped his hands to pick up hers and rubbed soothing circles on her palm.

"Okay?"

She nodded, closing her eyes. It was hard, remembering that some people did this out of love, and not evil. She reminded herself that he kissed her like that because he loved her, and when she asked him to stop, he did.

The stopping made all the difference.

--

Emmett didn't know what to do. He knew that Rosalie was obviously suffering from what had been done to her, but he didn't know how. He couldn't begin to imagine what tormented her, her flashbacks, her haunting memories. He could only hope that things would get better.

He took her shoulders and they lay on the bed, the blankets mussed and pillows thrown everywhere. He listened to her breathe in and out, calming herself. She eventually put her head on his shoulder, fitting in perfectly with the notch in his collarbone. She seemed okay, for the moment, at least.

But the more this beautiful girl found comfort in him, the angrier he became at the one to hurt her like this. His fist clenched at his sides, and his breath became harsher as he envisioned everything he would do to Royce King when he found him. He imagined the blood, the screaming, and the darkness. It would be brutal.

Rosalie noticed him tensing underneath her, and twisted to look at his face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He shook his head and tried to focus on Rose. She was what was important.

She sat up. "I told you…now you have to tell me."

He sighed. She had him there. "I was just thinking of what I'm going to do with this Royce when I find him." He was totally honest with her.

Rosalie leaned away from him, biting her lip. Taking in the look on her face, Emmett backtracked, thinking he had scared her. "I'm sorry. I won't talk about it again." He motioned for her to come to his side.

She didn't move. Instead, she winced.

"What is it?"

"I have to tell you something else." She looked timid again, and Emmett clenched his jaw.

"Go ahead."

"Royce is…dead." She looked down at the blanket. Emmett's eyes widened, anticipating the next news. He was trying to decide between being proud of her or shocked. Girls he knew as a human would never have considered revenge, but he guessed that was why he loved Rosalie and hadn't been attracted, in this way, to the other girls. "I…killed him."

"When?"

Rose hadn't been expecting that question. She looked up, as if surprised that she wasn't being scolded or reprimanded for un-ladylike behavior. Knowing the rest of the family, they hadn't been too supportive when she announced her plans for retaliation. "A few months before we moved to Tennessee." She paused. "A year before you came."

Emmett nodded, and moved closer to her side, reaching out to draw her closer with his arms again. "I'm proud of you."

Rosalie blinked. "You are?"

"I only wish that I could have done it." He laughed, just once, and it was more threatening than funny. "But I'm sure it was better that you did."

She smiled, just the very corners of her mouth turning up. "I wore a wedding dress."

Emmett rubbed her back. "I'm sure you terrified him."

"I tried." But she was smiling bigger now, finally having someone else approve of her unconventional therapy.

Emmett's thumb rubbed her shoulder through the thin satin, and she leaned in closer to him. Emmett inhaled the scent of her hair, and felt at once like he was home. The companionship, the utter romance of it all swept him back to a place in the warm hills of Appalachia, and good hospitality.

He only wished that they could have been there together, the sparkling skin and thirst for humans not included, because it would have made her happier.

**A/N: Thanks everyone who reviewed, and everyone who read. My friends talked some sense into me and told me not to be a review whore. They were right. I'll take the reviews whenever you guys feel like I earned them, or whenever you feel like giving them. Either way – I'm happy with the numbers of hits the story is getting! I never would have imagined that this would be read over 500 times. **

**Also, I'll be gone away until next Tuesday (the 17****th****). When I get back, expect another chapter or two.**


	5. Chapter 5

In the Land of One Thousand Years

**A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry that I didn't get chapter 5 up last night, but I didn't fly in until late – and then I wanted to sleep more than anything else. **

**Much thanks to those people who reviewed. I absolutely love knowing that other people are reading and enjoying this story the way I do. I think I've gotten a lot closer to these characters through writing this and it's going to be hard to let them go…but I already have my sights set on something else. But I hope that the people who read this feel as close to the characters as I have.**

**Expect chapter 6 by Friday!**

Rosalie had never thought she would crave the feeling of a man's arm around her waist or his hand pressing into her back. But she found that with Emmett, she could never get enough.

They sat under trees that spring, letting sunlight dance on their arms and shoulders, and read together. His voice was low and soft in her ear; his breath blew strands of hair against her neck and made her shiver delicately. That only made him do it more often.

He spread picnic blankets out on cool grass and she rested her head on his stomach, feeling it expand with every useless breath. Every part of him fascinated her. Emmett bent down, brushing her thick hair to the side, and his lips touched her ear. "You are stunning."

She smiled so hard it hurt her face, and tilted her face up to see his. He kissed her forehead. "Thank you." She said, and her voice almost echoed in the air.

It was beginning to be warm again, and she dressed in cotton. The dresses she wore reached the ground, but she still felt lighter and more open than ever before. She wriggled her toes in the grass.

"You look happy." Emmett observed, still running fingers through her hair.

Rosalie kept smiling, and reached up to touch his stomach. "That's because I am."

His brilliant grin matched hers. "I'm glad."

She went back to staring at the clouds, watching them roll by calmly. "Go on." She urged.

Emmett straightened, still smiling, and cleared his throat. "'All wars are sacred.' he said, "to those who have to fight them."' Emmett had bent the binding of their copy of _Gone with the Wind _with his strong hands and read in his strong voice. She watched the leaves fly in the wind, green and fluttering above her face. It all seemed so perfect, and she wondered how long it could last. She liked to think forever, but she knew they would have to get up and hunt eventually. And, sooner or later, she figured, it would rain. The thin, white cotton of her dress wasn't meant to be wet.

Emmett wrapped her golden hair around his hands, and almost reveled in it. He continued reading, and Rosalie let his words fill her. Their weight made her body sink into the ground, making her feel heavy like lead. What he was saying didn't really matter. She loved to hear him read, talk, say anything. Emmett seemed to understand. His bare chest felt gloriously large under her head, and it was hard, exactly the way she knew it was supposed to be.

"Mmmm." Rosalie rolled over, twisting the skirt around her ankles and knees. She propped her chin on her hands, her elbows resting halfway on the blanket and half on dewy grass. Emmett tossed the book on the ground, reaching towards her and rocking up to a sitting position. He let his hand fall from her hair and pressed it against her cheek instead.

He pulled her towards him, just a little more. His lips were hard against hers, for a few moments. Rosalie's eyes closed and she inhaled the scent of spring, flowers and dirt. The sun peeked through the trees and warmed her skin.

"I love you." She whispered, letting the wind carry it to his ears. She was getting much better at saying it aloud.

Emmett pulled away. "You, Rosalie Lillian Hale, are something else."

--

That summer, the wind that blew through Hoquiam was warm and still. The clouds were still there, keeping the day safe for them, but you couldn't feel them hanging in the air the way they usually did.

Emmett felt a duty to this city girl, the one who was bred to be the little lady that would earn a wonderful marriage and hadn't had dirt under her fingernails in ages. He wanted to see grass stains on her knees, and leaves in her hair.

They went on long walks, climbing trees. He joked as she struggled to keep her skirts from billowing out beneath her or tearing on the tree limbs. She balanced precariously on the branches, wind blowing her hair wildly. But instead of cowering, like his sisters always had, she straddled the branch and laughed.

It was one of the things he loved about her. She had nothing else to be worried about, or frightened for, because there was nothing else that could happen. It was another tragedy, but one that provided a convenient out for nature.

He held out a hand and reached to steady her, but she had leaned forward, clutching at the branch and pressing her chest against the rough bark. She wasn't falling anytime soon.

Emmett bounded from branch to branch, shaking the tree. He gleefully watched as Rosalie hugged the thick branch more tightly and shut her eyes as she screamed.

"Scared?" He called, taunting.

She squinted at him, and stuck out her tongue quickly. "No."

He jumped again, and guffawed as she yelped. "You look terrified!"

"I'm not scared!" Rosalie protested. As if to prove this, she sat up and let her hands ease slowly from the tree. Emmett grinned and jumped as hard as he could. The tree trembled, and the branch he was on cracked and fell to the ground. He jumped and grabbed the branch above him, holding on. When he turned to look for her, she was screaming as she fell.

Emmett's face grew wide with fear. He knew that she could reach and grab a branch at any moment, but she didn't. She could land on her feet, like a cat, but she didn't. It was strange. He wondered, for a split second, if he had really hurt her. He raced to the edge of the tree branch, and mentally prepared himself on the way. If he had hurt her, just a scratch even, he would beg for years to be forgiven. He would never speak to her again, if it made her happy. Anything.

But Rosalie was sitting up, on the forest floor, looking up at him. She looked bewildered, frightened, but unharmed. Emmett crouched and jumped from the branch, landing roughly at her feet. He was seated next to her, one arm around her shoulder, before the leaves were done shaking.

"Rose?"

She looked at him, slowly. "That was … interesting."

"Are you okay? Rose?" Emmett wasn't being patient. He didn't have time for patience.

She nodded, still moving slowly. "I'm fine."

"Why didn't you stop? Grab a branch?" He brushed hair quickly from her face, worried.

Rosalie shook her head, clearing it. "I don't know. Didn't think if it, I guess."

Emmett sighed. "God, Rose. Don't do that. If I had hurt you…" he trailed off.

"What?"

He looked down, and met her eyes. "I never would have forgiven myself."

She smiled. "I'm okay." Rosalie looked back up at the tree. "I think – I think I forgot I could."

His mouth opened.

She hadn't felt like a vampire. It was definitely progress.

--

The fall just opened up more opportunity for them to get outside. At a constant freezing temperature, the impending cold didn't bother them much. Emmett, however, bundled up in a wool coat, just because he could. Rose was a little less eager to wrap her stunning body in a thick jacket, but when Emmett found one in a deep brown color, she complied with his human fantasy.

Neither of them were strangers to the autumn colors, but every season was new to Rosalie this time around. Emmett had spent almost every moment of his human life outside, as he was keen on reminding her at every spare moment. Rosalie had lived in the city, full of cobblestones and tall buildings. She had a few trees in her yard, but had never waded through them.

"Come on!" He gestured with his arm, wildly, motioning to the door.

She followed, dress rustling on the loose, dry grass. A few leaves rolled under her skirt, bunching around her boots.

Emmett had piled the leaves from the giant trees in a massive pile on the front lawn.

"What is this?" She asked, tucking a loose piece of hair back into the mess on top of her head.

"A pile of leaves." Emmett stated, gathering a few more as they fell from the sky and throwing them on top of the pile.

"Really?" She was sarcastic, but he had to look up to see the roll of her perfectly proportioned eyes. "I meant, what are we going to do with it?"

"Jump, obviously." Emmett scaled the tree above the pile in the blink of an eye. He walked slowly out onto the highest branch he could get to, his weight making the thin wood bend dangerously. He bounced once, twice, and then it snapped and Emmett cried out as he plummeted to the ground.

The leaves flew up in an explosion of sorts, and Emmett pulled himself off the ground.

"Go ahead." He yelled for her. She shook her head.

"No."

"It's fun!" Emmett encouraged.

"You've got to be kidding." Rosalie walked forward to meet the brawny vampire covered in leaves who was making his way toward him.

Emmett picked up her hand. "Go on."

Rose sighed.

"Are you scared?"

Now Rosalie eyed him, glaring. "What?"

Emmett shrank back. "Sorry."

But she shook out her shoulders, head and hair back and walked towards the pile. She didn't feel the need to climb the tree, and she shot her melodramatic mate a sarcastic glare. She simply smoothed her skirt, and tucked her knees in. Then, she crouched, and dove – head first – into the pile of leaves. She landed, front first instead of feet, in the leaves and they scattered.

When she stood, there were leaves in her hair and in her dress.

"Wasn't it fun?" Emmett met her on the ground.

Rosalie shook out her skirt, and leaves fell to the grass at Emmett's feet. "I'd say it was overrated."

Emmett's face fell, just the tiniest bit. It was all an act of course. He had grown to be one of the only people to understand what was really going on in her head. He knew she wasn't really angry, and he had caught the slight smile on her face as she dove.

"Whatever you say." He took her elbow and they moved inside, most likely to sit in her room or the library, and talk. But he had succeeded again, and Rosalie was getting more and more adventuresome everyday.

--

Winter wasn't as easy as other seasons had been.

Rosalie hated the gray, and the white. It reminded her of innocence, and something she would never be. There was too much peace for her inner monster, and she needed excitement. Emmett had managed to do that much, at least.

He was discouraged. Rosalie had reverted back to what it was like before the revelation, and spent most of the time in her room. It broke his heart, because now he knew what she was in there brooding about. It took him a few days to learn that she didn't want his company.

In fact, she was rethinking. Emmett didn't really seem to mind what her past was like, as long as she was doing okay. Most of the time, they didn't even discuss it.

But with all this innocent snow and time cooped up inside, she had stopped to think about Emmett's real feelings. They hadn't taken their relationship much farther than that day in her room – when she told him her secret – mostly because it just wasn't done. He was a man, and she was a woman, and you just didn't do those kinds of things unless you were married.

One thing she was sure about, she had fallen more in love with him, if possible, in the last year they had been together. She was even more convinced that she wanted to spend forever with Emmett McCarty than before.

But, Emmett hadn't told her anything along those lines in a while, preferring, she guessed, to tease her. It was hard, not knowing how he felt – really. But she wasn't about to ask him.

She thought it a very real possibility that he didn't feel quite so strongly for her as she did for him.

So as the snowflakes piled up on her windowsill and Emmett sat lovingly outside her door like the old days, Rosalie rethought their romance.

It was dangerous, and she let her self-conscious, shy, easily influenced side take over before long.

Edward grimaced sadly at Emmett, keeping Rosalie's thoughts between him and Rosalie, the way it should be. Emmett smiled grimly back, and wrung his hands nervously.

He heard the window open inside her room, and knew that her hand was hanging out the window and she was noting how the snowflakes didn't melt on her skin anymore.


	6. Chapter 6

In the Land of One Thousand Years

**A/N: Wow! That was fast! Two chapters in two days. **

**Actually, all the chapters are done now, so it shouldn't take me too long to get them all posted. Expect another one probably by Saturday. Thanks for being such a loyal and wonderful group of people, and a thousand thanks to those people who always review. **

**I'm so glad that some people besides myself are enjoying this experience. **

Emmett couldn't bring himself to leave.

He sat – paced, stood, laid – in the hallway before her door. She had to hunt sometime, right?

But, as the days grew gradually shorter and she still hadn't come out, still hadn't left at all, he began to worry. He called to Carlisle, who calmly explained that she couldn't possibly starve herself, and that made the wait a little less stressful. However, going weeks without seeing her was not something that he was good at. His fingers itched for her skin. He needed her. Every atom in his body screamed for her.

And all this time, the burning in the back of his own throat was growing progressively worse.

"Rosalie?" He whispered, again, for what could very well be the ten-thousandth time so far. She didn't answer. She had stopped screaming in reply after the first few days.

Edward was coming downstairs, and he paused to stand near Emmett for a little while.

_What is she thinking?_ Emmett needed to know. His worry for her expanded beyond all bounds of normality or sanity. Edward could tell, but it had been weeks, and he still hadn't given anything away. He said it wasn't his place.

Edward shook his head, knowing that this would not be a conversation they wanted Rosalie to overhear.

_Please, Edward. I need her. I need to help her._

Edward wrote in the air, and Emmett struggled to understand. _You can't._

Emmett scowled. _I can. I did last time_

_._

Edward's head just shook sadly. _She needs to help herself._

_I can help her get there. _Emmett insisted. _Edward. I need her. Please._ He was wearing down again. Edward wouldn't give in, and this arguing wasn't worth it.

But Edward paused. _Come downstairs._ He motioned with his finger. Emmett looked back at the door, and then at Edward. He hesitated only a moment, and then jumped to his feet, and went away.

--

Rosalie had been somewhat comforted throughout the weeks, knowing that Emmett was waiting for her, outside. That knowledge kept her arguing with herself, when she would have given up a long time before. It was like a friendly reminder. He might not love her the way she loved him, but he cared. Caring was good.

The burning in her mouth and throat was becoming more and more unbearable, and with each minute she cane closer to leaving in search of blood. She didn't want to face him, and it seemed to make her stronger than she thought she could have been otherwise.

It was hard to justify what exactly she was feeling. The weather was just a trigger for deeper feelings that Emmett – God bless him – had managed to bury deep inside her over the past few months. Now they flooded out, not hindered by good weather or happy days.

She felt unworthy, most of all. After all, she wasn't even a virgin. Emmett deserved better that that. He would deny her logic, of course, but it was common sense. Good men like Emmett didn't deserve ruined brides.

And, secondly, she wasn't sure she should even be thinking like this. Emmett had never tried to do … anything. He hadn't proposed, or elaborated on his feelings besides the very occasional "I love you." He didn't make lewd comments like every other man she had ever met. It was strange, but to Rosalie, it didn't feel like he loved her in _that_ way. Of course, they had kissed. And friends didn't kiss each other.

Thinking about it made her head spin. Most of the time, she sat on the widow bench and looked at the snow, remembering what it felt like as the cold air spilled on to her bare skin as Royce attacked her. It might sound strange but thinking about Royce was actually easier than thinking about Emmett. At least she couldn't change what had happened with Royce. There was nothing she could do. Nothing she should, or was supposed to do.

Then, Edward's footsteps downstairs were followed by Emmett's, and she knew he had finally grown tired of her, and left.

No matter how tightly she curled in against herself, the pain wouldn't stop hurting.

--

Emmett followed Edward down the stairs and outside. They kept walking for a very long time, and Emmett glanced back at the house, anxious.

Finally, Edward turned. His eyes were dark, and his nostrils flared angrily.

"Edward, brother. Just tell me something. Anything." Emmett begged, looking down on the brother who held all the power.

Edward sighed. "I shouldn't be doing this."

Emmett just waited.

"It's not right." Edward said again, maybe hoping that Emmett would reconsider and ask him to keep the information to himself. Emmett was not about to do anything of the sort.

"Go on." Emmett urged.

Edward reached up and twisted a lock of hair in his hands. "She's worried."

"About what?"

"Your relationship." Edward's voice was soft, and harsh. He spoke half through his teeth. "She thinks that she doesn't deserve you."

Emmett swore, loudly, and turned to run home, fully intent on bursting through her door and spending forever professing his love for Rosalie. But Edward's hand on his arm stopped him.

"You have to understand what I'm about to tell you, Emmett." He kept his hand on Emmett's arm, restraining him. "Rosalie has always been the most beautiful thing that any man had ever seen."

Emmett couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face.

"But, that meant that men were always making inappropriate comments and touching her in … less than appropriate places. Though no one ever took it as far as Royce – not even close – she was used to uninvited attention. She associates it with love, and attraction."

Emmett's grin disappeared. "She thinks I don't like her because…I don't molest her?"

Edward grimaced. "That's part of it." He frowned, and then continued. "She's been thinking a lot about how you deserve a…" Edward paused, trying to say it delicately, "… someone innocent. She doesn't think that she's worthy of your love, even if you returned it."

"That is ridiculous!" Emmett clenched his fists.

Edward nodded. "She imagines that she cares more about you than you do her." He couldn't hold Emmett any longer.

Emmett tore back home and ripped her door from its hinges.

--

Rosalie heard some commotion downstairs, and wondered vaguely if the boys had broken something important. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She couldn't hold herself tight enough. Then, there was a shattering crash, and his thundering voice was in her room.

"Rose!"

She sat up so suddenly that her head collided with the wall behind her and a picture clattered down. "Emmett?"

He was grasping her shoulders roughly, shaking her. He was angry, fuming, his eyes were a midnight black. "You've locked yourself up in this room for the entire winter because you were afraid I didn't like you?" He thundered in her ear, and she winced.

Rosalie nodded.

He was picking her up, still violently shaking her. "You were right." Her world crashed in on top of her, but he wouldn't put her down. "I don't like you Rosalie Hale." He sounded murderous. "I love you. God only knows how much."

Her eyes flew open.

"I want to spend eternity with you. I want you to belong to me." He was growling. She locked her arms around his neck and pulled herself in to smell his chest.

"Emmett." He put her down on the floor.

"What?"

Rosalie shook her head. "You shouldn't love me."

"Why the hell not?" His voice shook the entire house.

She backed away, and ducked her head to look at her feet. "I'm not – I'm not _clean_."

A snarl ripped from his throat, and he was pushing against her. "That's not true. You're perfect."

"I don't deserve you." She wailed.

"You do." He insisted, and caught her mouth with his. His hands were on her arms, and she was on the bed. She didn't know how that happened. He was dragging his lips over the neckline of the dress, and her body convulsed. Tremors rocked her frame. "I love you." He mumbled, but it got lost on the skin above her heart.

Then, his hands pushed fabric from her shoulders, and his mouth reveled at the straps he found there.

She couldn't think. Royce's face should have been in the front of her mind, but it wasn't. All she saw, heard, thought, was _he loves me._ But she knew something was wrong.

His hands were pulling the dress farther down, and she couldn't remember what was so wrong about this. She gasped, and he pulled his lips from her chest to touch her lips. That was when she remembered.

"Stop! Emmett! Stop!" Her voice was lacking resolve, but he heard it. He stopped, and flipped over on the bed next to her.

"Oh, Rose." His chest heaved. "I'm sorry."

"We can't do this. Not yet." She panted.

He stopped breathing, and propped himself up on one elbow. "Yet?" He repeated, raising an eyebrow.

Rose just nodded, focusing on the speck on the ceiling and breathing. In, out.

Emmett touched her bare shoulder again. "When?"

She turned to glare at him.

He was gone. She sat up, confused. When he returned, only seconds later, he looked fearful.

"Emmett?" She questioned.

He knelt by her feet. She froze.

"Rosalie Lillian Hale," he began, pulling a white satin box from his pocket. She didn't let him finish.

"Yes!" She flung herself at him and they fell backwards. He kissed her, and held her there on top of his wide chest.

"You thought you didn't deserve me?" He questioned, still feeling every atom of her body quiver against every atom of his.

Rose sighed. "I don't."

"I disagree." His lips brushed hers. "And my opinion is the one that matters. After all, I'm the one marrying you."

She laughed, and her hair fell on his chest. There would never be a better feeling, he decided.

--


	7. Chapter 7

In The Land of One Thousand Years

**A/N: I am so sorry that I didn't get this out sooner but…well…life happened. ******

**Hopefully, this chapter will make up for it. It's a little shorter than usual (sorry!) but I think it's lovely all the same. Keep in mind that several months have passed between Chap. 6 and this. I haven't got any idea of the actual time line but if the last scene took place in January…hmm… I'd guess that this would be June or July.**

**One more warning I have to add. After this chapter, I'll be changing the rating to M. I wrote a honeymoon scene in chap. 8 because I think it will be an important step for Rose and Emmett. Chap. 9 will be considered T, however, so if that kind of scene bothers you, feel free to skip chap. 8 altogether.**

**Thanks for being an awesome set of readers! Keep up the great reviews!**

Rosalie wrung her hands, but smiled to herself as she watched the rivulets of rain drip down the window from the Bride's room. Esme patted the last stand of hair in place, and bent to kiss her forehead like a mother.

"You look like an angel."

Rosalie looked up, into the woman's eyes, and was reminded that her real mother would be missing the day Rosalie had always wished she would get to see. Her mother deserved to know that she had found a bit of happiness, at least.

"Thanks." Rosalie kept her voice smooth and steady, remembering - with a twinkle in her eye – who was waiting for her just a short walk down an aisle from now.

Esme held the door to the Bride's room open, touching Rosalie's shoulder gently as she walked past. Esme closed the thick wooden door quietly behind her and pushed through the next set of doors – leaving them propped open – making her way into the chapel. Edward began to play, and she heard Esme and Carlisle sit in the front pews. The chapel was empty except for her family and the minister and Emmett was breathing heavily at the altar.

She stood, fixing her train behind her so it dragged gracefully. The delicate material rustled and she heard Emmett catch his breath. She looked down, and the ring that he had placed on her hand so long ago was there. She let a tiny hum of contentment escape her lips.

The doors at the back of the chapel were still open, and when she caught Emmett's eyes, she melted. He was grinning, wide and cheerfully, a 1000 watt smile. His hands were in his pockets, and his hair was mussed a bit in the front, where he had run his hands through it nervously.

She smiled back at him, and started up the aisle, the wrong song playing because she started too early and rose petals getting caught under the voluminous skirt of her dress as she walked up the stone floor. Her heels made soft clicks and clacks against the hard cobblestones, and they echoed softly in her ears. Her breath soon joined the rhythm.

The walk seemed to take a lifetime, and indeed, she had waited more than her natural lifetime to have it.

She tried to think of how she would have felt had it been Royce at that altar, and she couldn't even imagine it. There was only Emmett, this look on her face and these nervous butterflies in her stomach were only meant for him.

He was the only person who would ever make her feel this way, and she reveled in this gift that she could give to him, one part of her love that hadn't been damaged, one part of her that would always belong to only him.

He reached out his hands, and she took them.

There was a step up to the altar, and they took it together. She glanced only once at the minister, reluctant to tear her gaze away from Emmett's for even a moment. This was the beginning of them as one person, their life together from now on. She didn't want to miss a single moment of it.

"Dearly beloved," The minister's voice was thick, strong. It seemed appropriate. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Rosalie Lillian Hale and Emmett McCarty Cullen."

Emmett winked at her and her stomach twisted pleasantly. They had decided not to complicate things, and they would both be Cullen's for the time being. He had been slightly disappointed, that she wasn't taking McCarty as her name, but he had nicely agreed that them being together was what mattered in the end.

She squeezed his hand in hers.

The words were mumbled, time flying by so quickly and all she knew was that Emmett was there and they were getting married. She was lost in Emmett, watching every expression flash across his features and every feeling registering in his eyes with a spark. The minister prompted her twice, and Emmett nudged her discreetly before she flashed her smile towards the minister and began to say the vows that she had memorized months ago.

"I, Rosalie Lillian Hale, ask you, Emmett McCarty Cullen, to be my husband," there was rain falling down the window behind his head, and it seemed to sparkle – entirely pure and clean. "As my friend and my love. On this day, I affirm the relationship we have enjoyed," She was distracted by the gentle rubbing of his fingers on her palm. Everything, every touch and every sound seemed to carry the entire essence of him inside of it. "Looking to the future to deepen and strengthen it." They had time, at least. So much time.

"I will be yours in plenty and in want, in sickness and health, in failure and triumph." These vows seemed to fit her perfectly, so much more so than the vows she had been planning on saying with Royce. These vows were part of her soul, part of his soul and the words mingled together above them with perfect peace. "Together, we will dream, will stumble but restore each other, we will share all things, serving each other and our fellow humanity." Her voice faltered a little on _humanity _but, like he had told her, she had humanity. She wanted to be loved, and wasn't that the most human trait of all?

"I will cherish and respect you, comfort and encourage you, be open with you, and stay with you as long as we shall live, freed and bound by our love." Freed and bound, and it sounded so much like her. Being with Emmett was a commitment, but it felt so very much like a privilege.

Her eyes stung with the absence of tears, and she released his hand for just a second, to put it up to her face.

Emmett cleared his throat as the minister looked his way. "And you?"

--

"I, Emmett McCarty Cullen, ask you, Rosalie Lillian Hale, to be my wife, as my friend and my love." His hands were large, covering hers and she looked so delicate in her wedding gown. He wanted to always be there, always protect her. "On this day, I affirm the relationship we have enjoyed, looking to the future to deepen and strengthen it." He let the grin that she had held back at the idea of the future spread across his wide face. They had all the future they needed.

"I will be yours in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in failure and in triumph." Emmett tried to think of a time when they might be in want, or sick, or failing, and he was glad that he struggled to come up with an example. "Together, we will dream, will stumble but restore each other, we will share all things, serving each other and our fellow humanity." He had so many dreams for them, more than she had, he knew. He wanted to take her everywhere, share every new experience with Rosalie, because everything would be better with her by his side.

"I will cherish and respect you, comfort and encourage you, be open with you, and stay with you as long as we shall live, freed and bound by our love." He was so entirely overwhelmed by the idea that being bound to Rosalie could free him that he staggered slightly. Her hands tightened on his, holding him with her, and he knew that it was going to be all right.

Esme was gasping softly in the front row, and Emmett took a moment to grieve the loss of his own mother, who he knew, would have wanted to see her child so entirely happy. They hadn't talked about it, but Emmett was sure that his mother would have adored Mrs. Hale.

The minister reached for the rings, and Edward handed them over, standing behind Emmett as if he had been there the whole time, and they glinted only dimly in the light that shone grey from the cloudy skies outside the windows.

The ring, gold, surprisingly small, felt heavy and significant in his hand.

He placed the ring on her finger, and it slid smoothly into place, just where it was supposed to be all this time.

A matching ring fell into place on his finger, and he looked down at the two hands, joined and adorned with the signs of eternal love for each other.

They caught each other's eyes as they looked up, her veil getting stuck on her eyelashes.

"With the power vested in me by the United Methodist Church, I now pronounce you husband and wife." The minister was practically glowing with happiness and pride. "You may kiss your bride."

Emmett lifted the veil, ever so delicately, and his hand found its way under the mass of curls at her neck to bring her head to meet his. His arms were around her, and he debated never letting go. She fit so well.

Edward coughed, no doubt hearing his thoughts and the not so appropriate places they were headed, and Carlisle and Esme laughed. They broke apart, Rosalie smiling ridiculously wide and holding her face between her palms. Emmett took one of her hands, and they walked back up the aisle, kicking leftover roses at their feet. The car was waiting, over decorated with paint, flowers and tin cans. Emmett nodded thanks to Edward and graciously opened the door for Rose.

The hotel was not far away, but he had trouble keeping his eyes on the road while they drove there, especially with Rosalie getting more quiet the longer they drove.

"Rosalie?"

She turned, hair rustling. "Emmett?"

He couldn't stop the words that were running through his head from coming out of his mouth. "You are so…perfect."

He knew that she needed to hear something completely different, and internally cursed himself for being so inept.

But she touched his arm with her delicate fingers. "How much longer?"

Emmett blinked. "Five minutes."

"Can we make it three?" She giggled.

They were there in two.

Emmett dropped the keys with the valet, grabbed the single bag they had in the back, and all but dragged her through the hotel doors.


	8. Chapter 8

In The Land of One Thousand Years

**A/N: ****This Chapter contains graphic sexual situations.**

**Now that I've explained **_**that…**_**I hope you enjoy this chapter. I think that this chapter is the real breakthrough in their relationship and I was so happy to finally write it.**

**Thanks again to all my lovely reviewers! Keep it up, please!**

**Only one more chapter. I can't believe it's almost over!**

Emmett was trembling, just slightly, as he swung open the door to the hotel room. He tried to downplay the shaking by keeping his hands tightly at her waist as he led her inside.

Emmett kissed the delicate skin behind her ear.

"Mmmmmm." He half-moaned against her skin, and Rosalie pressed her lips together in a thin line, dancing between embarrassed and happy.

His hands were already attacking the little buttons of her dress as he kicked the door shut. The buttons slid under his large fingers and he fumbled with the lace.

"Careful." She warned, but with a smirk in her voice.

"Shh." He silenced her as his fingertip brushed the silk of her corset and she inhaled sharply. He would have grinned; proud of the reaction he received, except that the expanse of wire and silk held every inch of his attention. "Are you trying to kill me?" he muttered, eyes fixed on her.

"You're already dead." But she too was panting, the ribbons at the back of the corset stretching and straining to keep up with the expansion of her lungs.

"I feel so alive." He breathed, and reverently slipped the dress off her shoulders. A tremor rocked her frame and he attributed it to a feeling like the one he was currently experiencing.

Finally free of the limiting gown, Rosalie draped it lovingly across the back of a chair and folded herself sinuously into the bed. Emmett quickly shed his shoes and jacket, joining her.

He pressed himself onto her, kissing her passionately. She broke away, one hand pushing against his chest and a wince flashing across her face. She reached up to pull a bobby pin from her hair.

"Help?" she asked, and turned her body around, shielding herself. Her voice was choked.

Emmett sighed, reluctantly, and put both hands into her hair. The mountain of bobby pins grew on the white blanket as he pulled more and more from her curls. Ringlets fell to her back, messy.

He grew impatient, and groaned, looking down at the undergarments he so desperately wanted to take off. "God, Rose."

"Almost done." She insisted.

He began to whine, like a child. "Why did we have to do this right now?"

Rosalie bit her lip, and furrowed her eyebrows. "It was painful."

Emmett growled.

She leaned back into his hands and his long fingers played with the thick tendrils, searching roughly for any straggling metal pins. He pulled the last few out, and promptly pushed the entire pile off the bed and to the floor.

"Emmett!" Rosalie exclaimed.

He tugged at the ribbons, loosening the tight corset. His fingers were all too comfortable with these steps and it was obvious that this wasn't his first time. His bare fingertips on her back made her head spin. The corset fell away and she had to restrain herself from crossing her arms over her chest.

His hand traced down her spine, to the top of her underwear and he put his lips on the top of her back. His breath saturated her hair. He reached, to turn her around, and she closed her eyes. He dragged her to face him, or so she guessed.

Emmett's next intake of breath was shaky, but he didn't touch her breasts. Instead, his hands went to her face, and her eyes fluttered open.

"Rosalie," his face was so close to hers, his breath so gentle. "Are you okay?"

She was sick of _never_ being strong enough, so she nodded.

His eyes implored hers for just a few more seconds, and seemingly satisfied with what he saw there, he moved his eyes down. She kept her gaze on the top of his head, and tried to calm her nerves.

Emmett breathed a sigh, as his finger grazed the skin on the side of her breast. "Rose."

She bit her lip, and reminded herself that he loved her.

"I love you." He said, reading her mind. "God, Rosalie, that doesn't seem like enough. There are no words." His voice got farther away, as he ducked his head. His lips, so hard and smooth, touched her nipple – and she fell back onto the bed, letting all the air out of her lungs in a woosh. Emmett followed, kneeling over her and still laving her chest.

Emmett groaned , and kissed every inch of her bare torso.

"Oh." Rosalie couldn't take in enough air to talk. Her weak fingers fumbled, over each other as she undid that buttons on his shirt. She was scared. Terrified. She couldn't seem to breathe. Emmett helped her, shrugging his shoulders until the white cotton fell away. He left it where it fell, and pressed himself to her, winding his hands in her hair and kissing her. He groaned into her mouth.

He dragged out each syllable of her name, ravishing her lips and breasts with glorious kisses.

"Emmett." She was shaking, underneath him. His fingers were on his legs, unhooking the garter belt and gently pulling the socks down, revealing firm, pale legs. She couldn't bring her hands down to his waistband.

She didn't have to. Emmett was eager, and removed his pants, not waiting for her. Her throat was tight, she felt trapped, she couldn't speak.

Rosalie felt ashamed. This, her wedding night, and she could escape her fears.

Her underwear was gone, and although Emmett was stroking her with the most reverent touch, when she closed her, it was Royce she saw. The leering smile and drunken laugh echoed in her thoughts.

She could feel his – or was it really Emmett's? – hard length on her hip. He was straining against her, rubbing and petting, moaning loving words in her ear. It was possible that it was Emmett and not Royce saying those things, touching her that way, but it certainly felt like Royce.

"Rosalie."

The touching stopped, the whispering faded.

"Rosalie!" the frantic voice was now definitely Emmett. She opened her eyes, and he was not on top of her. He was standing off the bed, panicked. She sat up, and was still frightened. She looked around wildly. Royce had been here. He had touched her, talked to her. It felt so real.

When she stood, she yanked the sheet around her.

It was not what Emmett expected when she launched herself into forward and into his arms, he stepped back, catching her.

Rosalie clung madly to his arms, and he wrapped them around her.

"I'm so sorry, baby." Emmett smoothed her hair back. "Shhh…" he tried to quiet the whimpering sounds she was making against the bare skin of his chest.

"I heard him. He was here." She buried her head deeper into his arms. "He touched me."

Emmett tightened his grip on her. "Royce is dead, Rosalie."

She nodded, but didn't loosen her grip.

"He can't come back. He's not going to touch you ever again." Emmett kept his voice deep and calm. "You're safe."

Rosalie's breath was coming evenly now. Emmett continued.

"I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe with me."

She pressed her lips to his shoulder. "I'm…sorry." The word didn't have the effect she wanted it to. He looked down at her, and tried to infer what she meant from the expression in her eyes.

"We don't have to do this tonight." Emmett, sounding rather reluctant, pulled the sheet more firmly around her shoulders.

"But –" her voice was timid, the way she only ever let him hear. To anyone else, she was always strong and fierce.

"But?"

"I want to." She hid her face in the crevice of his arm, mumbling so maybe he wouldn't hear.

"You w-want to?" He sounded incredulous. He had only ever fantasized about girls wanting to do things like this.

She nodded, into his arm again. She was ridiculously humiliated, having to ask like that. "I want to…prove him wrong, I guess." She mustered up the courage to look him in the eye. "I want to know that I'm capable of loving somebody, properly." She pulled down on his neck so that her lips were at his ear. "I want to know that he didn't take everything away from me."

"Um…okay." Emmett didn't know what was best for her, but he wanted to so right by Rosalie no matter what. He wanted to dispel all images of Royce King away with the touch of his fingers on her skin. He wanted to hold her and know that she felt safe. He didn't want her to be afraid of his love for her. "I'll go slow this time, all right?"

"I'll be better, I promise."

"Oh, Rose." Emmett traced a cheekbone with the tips of his left hand. "You're already the best."

It was awkward, to say the least, getting started again. He pulled back her head from the crook of his arm and kissed her, trying to be more gentle than ravishing. But she was eager where he had expected reluctance, and that made it easier.

He slowly – and with her permission – made his way down her neck and over her shoulders. When he reached her nipples, for the second time that night, the sheet fell away and she was naked before him. It was the most glorious thing that Emmett had ever seen and he told her that.

Although Rosalie kept her hands above his waist, she was much more adventurous than any other girls he knew. Her lithe fingers danced provocatively across paths in his muscles. Her lips fell open with each sigh of contentment, and she kept her eyes open the entire time.

When it came to the inevitable, and she was biting her bottom lip in a mixture of fear and anticipation, Emmett kissed her forehead.

"Okay?" he asked, sounding concerned, as well as impatient.

Rosalie didn't answer right away. There were, after all, several factors to consider. It felt scary, but even Vera had said that it was terrifying the first time and Vera had loved her husband. Maybe fear was normal, okay even? She must remember to keep her eyes open – no more imaginary encounters with Royce tonight.

But Emmett felt wonderful. He was above her, wide and expansive, with a head of curls. He was hovering there, not putting his whole weight on her, and looking at her with eyes full of adoration.

"I'm going to fine." She said with confidence, and she was convincing herself, little by little.

Emmett let himself push forward, and their bodies slid together. It hurt – just a little – and she let out a small gasp.

"Still okay?" he had frozen again, and was shaking above her.

She looked into his eyes. "Yes." She wanted to do something to prove this, but she was new at this sort of thing. She reached up to wrap an arm around his neck, but, in doing this, she moved her hips and Emmett groaned. He arched, and thrust forward.

"Rose." He growled.

She didn't answer, because she was too busy _feeling_ to hear.

Her whole body was tingling, inside and out, each muscle drawn tight and taut. Rosalie thought she might explode. As Emmett continued to thrust, pushing her consistently further into the soft bed, her vision went white and she began to bring her hips off the bed to meet his.

She was physically feeling all those things that her mind had been telling her all those times, those vows that she had professed in front of everyone that day. They were one being, fitting together like they were never apart, as if their hearts were one and not two.

Emmett angled himself and thrust harder, pounding the headboard into the wall.

She rose to meet him one more time, tensing so much that she thought she might shatter and fly across the room in tiny pieces, and her entire body collapsed. His name came from her lips in a breathy gasp.

He thrust once, twice, grunting loudly, and then he yelled and fell on top of her, filling her with cool liquid. They didn't move, panting into each other's hair.

She kissed his shoulder, and he sighed, pulling out of her when he rolled over.

"Emmett?" She questioned.

He traced a hand up her arm. "Rose?"

"I am you." Her voice cracked on the last word.

He pressed a kiss to her neck. "I know you, inside and out."

She didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say anyway.

"Emmett?" She finally asked.

"What?" he sounded far away, as he clutched his naked body to hers.

"Can you hold me, all night?"

Emmett's eyes were soft, even as he sighed, disappointed. "Just hold you?"

Rosalie grinned, smacking him lightly. "We have the rest of eternity to…make love, Emmett. For tonight, can you just hold me?"

This time, Emmett couldn't even muster up the audacity to pretend he was disappointed. He pulled the sheet over them, and wrapped his arms around her waist as he buried his face in her long hair.


	9. Chapter 9

In The Land of One Thousand Years

**A/N: I want to say thanks (again!) to everyone who has read this or will read this. You don't know how much I appreciate it. I've loved reading all of your feedback and comments. This has been a great growing experience for me as a writer. **

**I'm sorry to say that this will be the last chapter. Rosalie and Emmett have reached the conclusion of their…whatever they were doing (I can't think of what to call it) and I think I'm pleased with how it turned out. I know that it's the shortest chapter of them all, but it might be my favorite. Let me know what you think.**

**I'll be pretty busy this summer, but I'll keep writing and you'll see some new stuff eventually. I write a lot of one-shot stuff, but I'm beginning to like chaptered stuff too. **

**Anyway, thanks, and I'll be (like the rest of you) eagerly awaiting the release of Breaking Dawn.**

**Love, flutegenevive**

Emmett kissed her right knee. "259."

"What was that?" Rosalie was looking out the window. The sky was such a deep blue that she couldn't tell whether it was morning or night.

"Freckles. On your knee." Emmett kissed her smooth skin again. "You have 259 of them."

She tore her attention away from the sky and grinned as she looked down at Emmett. "You counted?"

"I want to know everything about you."

Rosalie reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. "You do?"

"Yes." The answer was simple, finite. It encompassed everything she ever wanted to hear. Emmett wanted to know everything about her. Down to the numbers of freckles on her knees. Rosalie couldn't make herself stop smiling.

"Does that make you happy?" Emmett questioned, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it out loud.

Rosalie snorted. "Unbelievably so."

"Good." Emmett stood up and pulled Rose into his lap on the bed. "I want you to be happy."

"I am." She craned her neck to look him in the eyes. "More than I have been in a very long time." He kissed her hair. "This honeymoon has been…beyond words."

They were in San Francisco now, the last stop before they returned home from the month long trip. They had visited all the biggest cities. New York, Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia and Los Angeles. They had seen almost everything there was to see, done everything that there was to do.

But the best part wasn't the tourist sites they visited. It was the time they spent together, just being. She had taken all of her walls down after that first night, when Emmett held her and he told her exactly how much it hurt him that she was broken. (_I want to cry Rose. I want to break down in sobs, curl into a ball and cry for you sometimes_)Rosalie decided that it wasn't worth being broken anymore.

That didn't completely solve the problem, of course. She could hardly just _decide_ not to be affected by what had been done to her. If she could, she would have done it long ago.

But she could decide to be smarter about it. She could talk to Emmett when something bothered her, when she felt scared. She could resist some of the more painful memories of her humanity instead of wallowing in them. She could be better for Emmett.

Emmett learned quickly once she let her walls down and talked openly with him. He had always been good at seeing the lies when she told them, but now that he knew when to look he could see the glint in her eyes when she was uncomfortable. The way she touched her hair when she was nervous, the extra bat of her eyelashes when she was happy and the way her face tensed right before she came undone in his arms. He hadn't been exaggerating when he said that he knew her inside and out.

He took pride in being the only one to know these things about her. Not even Edward knew the things that he did. She was his. Would always be his. Could never belong to anyone else.

He felt horrible, not having saved himself for Rosalie. It killed him to see the look on her face when they spoke of the other girls he had been with, before her. He couldn't take that back now, even though he wanted to be as much hers as she was his. Rosalie was brave, and tried very hard not be jealous or angry with him. It made it worse, to know she was upset and he could have prevented it so easily.

Emmett didn't understand that he couldn't possibly make Rosalie that upset with him, even with stories of _that one girl _or _that one time_. She didn't want him to leave anything out. She wanted it all, even if made her feel sick. Her level of commitment and loyalty was terrifying.

"You could tell me anything, I wouldn't think any less of you."

He had simply smiled, relieved.

The feeling of complete devotion was hard for Rosalie to accept, especially because she had never let someone come that close before. Yet, when she was scared, she reached out to grasp Emmett's hand. He was her rock in the swift waters, and she could never let go.

Rosalie glanced around the room. All of their things were back in trunks, the clothes for the next day laid out on top, ready to return to Hoquiam. She was ready to go home. She missed the constant cloud cover, flashing trees as they ran and – surprisingly – her family. She was eager to discover how this newfound self-confidence would fit into the family. Rosalie was hoping that this personality makeover would translate into her other relationships. Emmett had promised that it would.

She didn't want to be on the outside anymore.

Rosalie was beginning to think that it wasn't all a nightmare. On the first night of their honeymoon, Emmett had said that he thought it was right for him to be a…vampire…because it brought him to her.

_We're together and that was the idea, right?_

Rosalie had originally dismissed that idea as crazy. She was dark, a monster, a mistake. There was no way that there was any merit in being what they were.

But the idea wouldn't go away. It was in her head whenever she had a free moment to think, popping up obnoxiously like the animals in the holes at the carnivals. The ones you were supposed to hit on the head?

So she thought about it. Could fate really be that twisted? Was there a God up there, somewhere, that had her life planned out like this? Was she meant to go through pain, suffering, torture and immense loneliness only to reach the end of the tunnel in Emmett's arms?

Emmett always knew when she was thinking about it. Her eyes got this glazed and far-away look and she crossed her legs underneath her on the bed. He didn't say anything. This was a revelation that she had to come to by herself.

She turned back to look at Emmett and she had that look. The look that was just so utterly _Rosalie_ that he knew it was coming.

"I think you were right."

He didn't grin, didn't smile. He feigned stupidity. "About what?"

She looked down at the quilt and twisted it in her fingers. "God bringing us together."

This time, he let himself smile as he reached to pull her to him. "Of course I'm right." The words were whispered against the smooth marble of her lips and she wasn't sure that she heard him. But the meaning was so clearly conveyed in the kiss that she didn't feel the need to ask.

In between the meetings of their lips, Rosalie explained it to him, as if he needed explaining to.

"I was supposed to," he pulled her closer, causing her to sigh against him, "to know pain." He clutched at her hair. "So that," his lips dragged down her throat, "so that when I did meet you," he licked the skin behind her ear, "_Oh_,_ God_,_ Emmett_," he pulled away to smile, "I would appreciate it."

"Shh." He silenced her, but that was okay, because as they slid onto the pillows, she didn't want to talk anymore.


End file.
